Black Ivory
by Looseefur
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a musician who takes many concerts and funeral processions when he starts working for a London company but the people in this company are odd and superstitious. But what if their suspicions are right and what happens when, he meets a ghost in London's Westminster Abbey?


Clip clop, clip clop, the hooves of a funeral carriage can be heard on the cobble stone street. It is black and sliver with intricate carvings, the varnish and metalwork are always well polished by the person who drove it. Sitting at the front of the carriage was a young man, he was a tall well built fellow, his hair looked like it had once been the colour of a lush wheat field, but the clouds and mist that persistently cloaked London had dulled it to the shade of dying grass with one lock of hair that refused to lay flat, proud at the front of his head. His eyes were the like the sky of a tropical country, bright and blue. However none of these things exist in England's capital, the sky is white like the snow had defied gravity and floated up to blot out the sun. The landscape is grey and dull the colours are muted and miserable, even the people looked grey in pallor, the colour grey infected everything. The young man's clothing is formal but he wears his attire of a tail suit rather casually, his waist coat is a baby blue, it's the only colour on his person. The horses pulling the carriage were white as sheets, on their heads were black feathered headdresses. _Why did I come to such a sad god-forsaken place?_ He thought lazily resting his chin on his hand, the other guided the horses effortlessly. Blue eyed boy glanced at his passenger, also a young man his nose buried deep into a book. The driver's companion was a local, he could tell from the few words they had exchanged before setting off. The other man was shorter and rather skinny, his eyes were bottle green and his hair would have reminded the driver of the sun, though he doubted this man had ever seen it, with skin the colour of bone it chilled the driver as the thought of the man being like an undead corpse clawing his way out of a grave, played on his mind.

He couldn't stand the quiet any more "Hey Mr. er Kirkland is it?" the passenger looked up from his book. "Yes that is my name Mr. Jones" Mr. Kirkland's voice was monotone and unfriendly. Trying to lighten the mood the driver enthusiastically chimed "Mr. Jones is my dad, just Alfred is good. I'm not an old man yet." The other huffed and didn't speak he just nodded. Alfred tilted his head _damn these people are unfriendly. But I should be used to it by now. _He tried again "Sooo, what's ya name Mr. Kirkland?" _Is this git deliberately trying to annoy me? I'll just play along he is giving me a lift after all _ the passenger thought "It's Arthur." Before he could return to the safety of the delicate pages of his book Alfred chirped up again "Hey do ya mind if I call ya Artie?" He flashed Arthur a dazzling smile. The other male bristled at the name "No you may not." "Aw come on _Artie_." Arthur grumbled "Stupid Yank" Alfred smiled, it reminded him of his days as a Union soldier "That's me Mr. Kirkland good ol' Yankee Doodle." He gives the skinnier man a nudge "Glad you noticed I'm not a Confederate" _Does this bloke ever shut up? _

After a while Alfred decided the Englishman wouldn't indulge him with small talk any further _Not surprising I guess, not many people here are very friendly_ The journey to Westminster Abbey was silent, every time the American looked at Arthur he noted how his face never changed at all _He looks like a statue and he's just as cold as one too. God I'm actually looking forward to seeing that savage gravedigger. _The gravedigger in question was waiting at the entrance of the abbey along with a very handsome man. The man Alfred had been thinking of was a Canadian from the northern plains of Saskatchewan, the man was eerie as he looked nearly identical to Alfred but his eyes were purple. _Purple?! How is that even possible?_ The other was French, sometimes the American wondered why the Frenchman even came to England, he always complained about the food, the weather and the people. He was a mortician who tended the bodies, he was fabulous for lack of a better word perfect hair and features, the right amount of stubble and lovely cornflower blue eyes. The three were a team who worked for the Abbey when it held funerals. They had a forth man who played the organ during the procession how ever he had passed away, he now lay in the coffin in Alfred's carriage. This grouch of an Englishman was now to take the old man's place in the ensemble.

"Bonjour mon ami" The golden haired Frenchman greeted Alfred with a smile that would put stars to shame. "Hey Francis! I got our new organ player!" He pointed at Arthur as the skinny man climbed down from the carriage. "Ohonhonhonhon Oh Alfred why'd you bring us a malnourished boy" _Boy?! I'm not a boy you blasted Frog! _Arthur glared at Francis as the Canadian who had remained quiet approaches him, "Hello Mister" His voice was like a whisper and he held out his hand for the Englishman. Arthur shook it firmly "Kirkland. You?" "Matthew Williams" He looked Matthew in the eyes and thought the same as Alfred; _Purple? How on Earth did he manage that?_ "It's nice to make your acquaintance Mr. Williams" His eyes then fell upon a peculiar pendant around the Canadian's neck, It was a bear claw with tufts of white fur on it's root. Arthur raises a black bushy eyebrow but doesn't ask. Matthew was glad he didn't ask and tucked it back into his shirt "It's good to meet you Mr. Kirkland" "Whoa! Hold up there we're all buddies now lets drop the Misters" The American cut in loudly, Arthur rolled his eyes _I've only just met you people_. Francis purred at this, he swaggered up to Arthur "Hello Mon Petit I'm Francis Bonnefoy" He held out his hand to Arthur who wrinkled his nose in disgust at the Frenchman's bravado _Slimy Bugger_ He shook the man's hand "Mr. Kir-" "First name too Artie!" Alfred shouted before the skinnier man could finish his answer. Arthur scowled and Francis smirked "Arthur Kirkland" He corrected. "A pleasure" Francis purred. "I assume you have met Alfred and Matthew Oui?" "Yes I have" The Englishman already wasn't very fond of his new colleagues, the American was far too over familiar with him for his liking, the Frenchman was suspiciously suave and the Canadian well he wasn't too bad but there was still something about how soft spoken and quiet he was.

Alfred looked away from the group and back to the carriage that held the coffin of their old friend who had died in his sleep, Francis had already dressed him in the smart suit he wore at the events where he had played the organ, the man was a widower so he had no wife any more but his son and grandchildren were already at the Abbey waiting with other relatives. "Hey we should get old Röderich out of the carriage, I think we are meant to be starting soon." The Frenchman checked his watch it read, ten to eleven "Sacre Bleu we ought to get on" Turning to the Canadian he speaks in French to him "Mathieu Allez" The younger perked up and made to open the back of the carriage. However Alfred intercepted him looking at him as if he were dirty and going to smear mud all over the door of _his _carriage, swinging the door open so they can take out the man's casket. Arthur watches the interactions wondering what the American could possibly have against Matthew, was it that the young lad was a Canadian and earlier events in the century had cause animosity between the people of the two nations? Perhaps it was unsettling to him that Matthew looked so much like him? Or maybe it was more personal? The Englishman didn't know. Of course only Alfred himself knew the real reason for his dislike of the other. However the Canadian had become accustom to this and just moves to slide the coffin out of the back of the ex soldier's carriage. Francis moved to help him holding it by the brass railings either side of the polished black wooden box. Matthew held one side while the Frenchman held the other. Arthur needs no invitation and stands behind the Canadian holding the railing towards the foot of the casket as they remove it from the carriage. The three man party struggles a little with the dead weight of the man inside and the coffin itself but Alfred promptly closes the door of his carriage and takes the brass bar of the empty corner of the coffin, immediately taking a lot of the weight from the others as they uniformly hoist the casket up onto their shoulders.

The four man procession leads the solemn cortège into the Abbey, Arthur was surprised that Alfred had actually been quiet for the event, but then he didn't think the American would be so brazen as to disrupt the grave atmosphere of mourning and hope. They entered the grand open doors of Westminster Abbey, both Francis and Alfred were relieved as the clouds had darkened by a few shades of grey and looked ready to rain. Francis cared more for how it would ruin his silky hair and Alfred because he didn't want to be soaked through and cold. Slowly they walked to the altar and laid the coffin on it gently, Francis and Alfred opened it so people could give Röderich flowers and lay them in his casket. stepping back from it. Arthur looked at the dead man curiously, his hair was dark and neatly combed, his face was lined with the years he had lived. He could see Francis had done a great gob in presenting the body, he was wearing a clean white cravat, a long royal blue coat, dark brown trousers and polished boots. He knew this man had loved music and that the family would like him to play some beautiful and skilful pieces to honour the man. While Alfred and Francis's work was now pretty much done apart from taking their friend out to the grave plot, Arthur and Matthew's work had yet to begin as the Englishman sits at the organ, ghosting his fingertips over the keys and starts to play as the family of Röderich Edelstein file into the Abbey for the funeral service. The other three listen intently as Arthur plays for their old friend, rather impressed by his skill. Once the Priest has taken the front he then leads the procession, one by one each friend and relative gives a small speech about Röderich.

After all the speeches and prayers Arthur is also to play the organ again as the family lay flowers and mementos, an albino laid a very nice well kept violin in the coffin placing it in Röderich's hands while his adopted grandchild an auburn haired boy placed a bouquet of Edelweiss flowers on the man's chest. Once they were done Matthew and Francis stepped forward and closed the casket, the Englishman finishing his piece and going over to help them carry Röderich to his grave site as did Alfred. After hoisting the coffin on their shoulders again they walked out of the Abbey, into the spitting rain to place it back into Alfred's carriage. Much to the ex-soldier's distain he had to take the Canadian with him, he didn't mind Francis or even the grouchy newcomer but not Matthew. The Frenchman and Alfred's apparent doppelgänger got into the back with the casket, while Arthur climbed up to sit side of Alfred who took the reigns of the snow white horses and set them off at a brisk trot to Highgate Cemetery.

The ride was quiet usually there was some kind of banter and taking, but even Alfred was silent. Arthur assumed it was because they were now taking their old friend to be buried and would now never see him again. All four of them seemed to just be watching the houses pass by in a daze, though Alfred was aware of the street. The journey from Westminster to Camden only took half an hour and when they got there they seemed just as sullen. Once they had pulled up to the cemetery the Englishman and the American clambered off of the black and silver carriage going around to the back to let the other two out. Matthew moves himself to the back of the carriage and pushes the casket out with Francis guiding it to the two waiting men. Their hands are outstretched and then they grasped the bars, pulling the coffin out and to the side so that Francis could slip out and help them carry it. Matthew then slid out of the carriage and took the last corner, the Frenchman shut the carriage door knowing Alfred wouldn't like it if his lookalike touched it. Now they were all set and the walked the coffin to it's resting place. They could have done with better planing as Matthew, being the gravedigger knew the location of the freshly dug grave but he was at the back so he instructed them where to go with soft words. After they found the group of tombstones it was not hard to see the mound of earth beside the six foot pit that Röderich was to take his eternal sleep in. The light rain still soaked into their hair and clothes but soon they were able to lower the casket into it's deep grave. They all looked down at it, Francis and Matthew had faint looks of sadness on their faces, keeping themselves relatively contained, but Alfred looked ready to bawl his sky blue eyes out at any second. The Frenchman said a little prayer for their friend, while the two doubles said a few words. After a few moments of silence Matthew picked up his spade and began to fill in the hole, the only sounds in Highgate were the faint whistlings of the wind and the soft 'shik' of the shovel as it plunged into the mound of soil and then the low 'donk's of it hitting the varnished wood of the coffin in the grave. The Canadian worked almost mechanically as he filled it in and the others watched this while Francis threw his own token into the grave. A beautiful red rose landed on the head of the coffin just before a pile of soil followed, burring it too.


End file.
